Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Old Majiya insisted, "Let's go now."

"Alright then, take your youngest son along, let him see the world as well." Fayeka scratched his increasingly sparse scalp and confessed, "I won't accompany you, to be honest, even stepping into the old garrison makes me fearful. I'll have the steward lead you there, don't worry, it won't delay matters."

Old Majiya nodded slightly.

"Did Tasso come with you?" Fayeka asked concernedly.

"He's outside."

"Why is he still like this? What's there to be embarrassed about?" Fayeka laughed kindly, stood up to see his old friend out the door, "So that's settled—let your youngest accompany you, and let Tasso stay and drink with me. Don't worry, if nothing else, the Rebels have the security well in hand, even the streets are a lot cleaner. You all go quickly and return fast, you can still catch dinner..."

…

[Artemis Garrison]

The former Artemis Garrison has now been requisitioned as the Iron Peak County Military's office space.

A large batch of civil staff from Revodan occupies the area, transforming the solemn and quiet two-story stone building's appearance.

Any space available for a small desk has already been divided among clerks, accountants, and copyists; administrative officers and errand workers come and go, bringing in requests like snowfall, and sending out responses just as swiftly.

The Iron Peak County Military's large-scale procurement in Vernge County has not only made Bard's logistics department the hottest unit in the army, but also brought fame to the Revodan Accounting School in Vernge County.

Citizens of Artemis are either inquiring "How to enroll in the Revodan Accounting School," or asking "Will Mr. Blood Wolf also open an accounting school here in Artemis."

After all, being able to learn grammar and arithmetic for free is like a pie falling from the sky.

And "studying accountancy at a Rebel-run school" has a notably wide range of deferrals compared to "joining the Rebels."

Suddenly, the gray stone small building of the old garrison becomes the focal point of Artemis.

At the end of the corridor on the second floor of this stone building, at a small desk set tightly against the corner, a clerk groans as he stands up.

The clerk flexes his stiff neck and shoulders, traverses the space between chair legs, his back, and the wall, and finally struggles to reach the meeting room on the other end of the corridor.

For convenience, the door panel of the meeting room has been removed. The clerk knocks on the door frame and enters upon receiving permission.

"The contract sent by Morin Commerce Firm has been transcribed." The clerk lays a piece of parchment with still wet ink on the table, "Mr. Anglu."

On the other side of the long table, Anglu takes the parchment and inspects it word by word.

Initially benefitting from Brother Reed's inspired education, and later from a certain someone's sufficient stick education, the young groom's cultural level has made considerable progress.

He examines the transcribed content, recalculates the numbers once again, and then places the parchment into the "waiting for submission" basket.

Although the office isn't Anglu's favorite place, he still manages to maintain the hundreds of clerks tidily like attending to a herd of horses.

"Well done." Anglu nodded with a smile—care and encouragement are, after all, crucial techniques in horse rearing: "Among so many copyists, only you never make mistakes."

"It's what should be done." The clerk doesn't intend to leave yet, wishing to seize the opportunity to get a bit closer to the supervisor.

He exaggeratedly rubs his neck, glancing at the many small baskets on the table, each filled with stacks of documents waiting for submission. With Bard's efficiency, such a situation generally doesn't occur.

"Is Bard still in a meeting?" the clerk asks ingratiatingly.

"Yes."

"Ah, Montani really is something," the clerk half-jokingly laments, "either never shows up, or when he does, money just flows like water. The Lord is straightforward, but we end up overwhelmed with work. His wife should be invited over to properly scold him."

"Gold in a warehouse is no different from stones; being able to use it is a good thing—money spent is truly money." Anglu frowned—appropriate reprimanding is also an important skill in horse rearing: "Do you have nothing else to do now?"

The clerk immediately takes the hint and departs.

Looking at the crowded corridor outside, Anglu anxiously pulls at his hair a few times.

Compared to the dull work and stuffy air in the office, the open fields are more capable of cheering up his mood. Thinking of this, he can't help but envy Bell—the young Hunter must be frolicking on the prairie with his lion right now.

Suddenly, the office door of the garrison officer opens, and the Civil Guard Officer Bard accompanies a Junior Officer in an iron mask out.

According to common etiquette, the clerks should stand up. However, Bard has new rules, so the clerks all pretend to be uninterested, continuing to work.

Bard accompanies the iron-masked Junior Officer to the main gate of the garrison: "Senior Moro, I'll see you to here."

"A few steps, no need for you to accompany." Moro maintains a distant demeanor: "I'm heading back to Revodan."

"Please be careful on your way."

Moro nods slightly, takes the reins from the Coachman, and gestures for the attendants and guards to prepare for departure.

However, just when his right hand has gripped the saddle horn and his toe is in the stirrup, Moro suddenly withdraws.

He turns around, stares at Bard through the mask, and seriously asks, "Why wasn't I chosen?"

Bard smilingly points to the northwest direction, "You're talking about that fortress?"

"Pulling most of my manpower, even delaying my bridge's progress. Surely I can't be forbidden from asking?"

"What do you wish to ask?"

"In terms of seniority, I'm 16th generation, Mason is 17th generation, he should call me senior; in terms of resume, I've served in the Standing Army Corps while Mason raised pigs in the New Reclamation Legion; in terms of capability, Mason is a better Artillery Commander than me, but I consider my engineer expertise no less than his. So no matter what aspect you look at, Mason shouldn't be the one overseeing this project." Moro's tone is less angry and more bitter: "Is it because I haven't earned your trust?" This version was sourced from M|V|L^EMPYR.

Bard pondered, but did not answer directly, instead smilingly retorted, "Does every Artillery graduate have a 'Mason' living in them?"

Moro frowned.

Bard explained, "Senior Mason had the same reaction as you. At first, Winters and I only sent him a letter, to discuss the feasibility of establishing a garrison camp in Vernge County—just as we did with you. Yet, he immediately ran from Maplestone City, and expanded the garrison camp into a star-shaped fortress on the blueprint."

A few raspy chuckles leaked from behind Moro's iron mask: "You mean to tell me—it's because I came late?"

"Of course not." Bard answered with a dry dignity, "I mean, you don't need to earn our trust because you've long been one of us."

Moro stood silently for a long time before unexpectedly saying in reluctance, "Forget it, I already have a bridge, I won't bicker with Mason this time."

Bard stayed silent, only raising his hand in salute.

Moro mounted his horse, hesitated for a moment, but couldn't resist adding a sour comment: "Earthworks can fall into disrepair within ten years, meanwhile, my bridge will still stand, benefiting the land even a hundred or a thousand years later. So... I'll let him have it!"

With that said, Moro waved his whip and rode off.

The accompanying attendants and guards quickly saluted Bard the Civil Guard Officer, and hurried after him.

Bard stood beside the main gate of the garrison, gazing long at the departing direction of Senior Moro.

"What happened?" Anglu dashed out from the small building of the garrison: "What happened?"

Bard sighed, smiling as he remarked, "I used to think only the Cavalry Department produced people with peculiar self-esteem."

Andrea Cherini, Seber Carrington... Several figures flashed rapidly through Anglu's mind.

"And now?" Anglu cautiously inquired.

"Perhaps everyone has a Mason living within them."